


Found Complete

by i_am_therefore_i_fight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (at first), Adultery, Consensual Infidelity, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_therefore_i_fight/pseuds/i_am_therefore_i_fight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you divide your love between them, Sam Winchester? (I don't divide, I multiply.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's a Nice Day (For a White Wedding)

If it’d been his place to give Sam away, he wouldn’t have. But weddings apparently don’t work like that. Only the bride has to be given away. It’s some sexist shit, in Dean’s personal opinion. Not that anyone asked. Not that anyone asked his opinion about any of this.

He takes another swig of—something, something harder than champagne but not as good as a glass of pure whiskey would be right now. He hasn’t been keeping track of the things he’s been stealing off the bar. In fact, he thinks this might have been someone else’s drink, originally.

“Dean?”

“Yep,” he says, eyes forward, because if he looks down at Sam’s hand on his shoulder and sees a gold ring glinting there, he doesn’t know what stupid and insane thing he might do. Like stand up, smash his glass on the table, and punch his brother in the jaw. Or put Sam’s fingers in his mouth.

Sam moves around and crouches to look at him, squinting into his face, hand now pressing warm and heavy against his collarbone.

“You okay?”

“Yep.”

“How much have you had to drink?” the younger Winchester insists, and Dean bristles—but then he wilts, again, because this is his baby brother’s wedding, and he’s not gonna make a scene.

“I dunno, Sam,” he says firmly, forcing himself to look straight into Sam’s concerned hazel eyes, “but it wasn’t too much. I’ve functioned just fine on a lot more booze and a lot less sleep.” He shrugs Sam’s hand off because he can’t bear the familiar weight of it, and nods toward the dance floor. “It’s your party. You should be out there twisting, shouting, etcetera.”

Sam wavers. “You looked kind of upset.”

“Indigestion. Seriously, you might wanna clear out of here, if you know what I mean.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam claps his brother on the shoulder. “If you change your mind…”

“Nothin’ to change my mind about, little brother. Just statin’ facts.”

Sam lingers. Dean wants to look away, but he knows that Sam will see through him instantly if he does. At least right now he’s maintaining some illusion of opacity.

Instead, he grins. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

—

Dean doesn’t try to drive. He knows he’s too drunk for that. He just sits in the car, which isn’t even cranked, in the relative dark of the parking lot, and tries not to feel sick. Tries not to feel anything.

Someone opens the passenger’s door and slides in beside him. Dean doesn’t want to look up and see Sam in his wedding tuxedo, so he doesn’t. He just stares out the windshield, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles are white.

“Dean?”

Dean doesn’t respond, and Sam sighs.

“We should talk about this.”

“Let’s not and say we did.”

Sam sighs again. “Dean…”

“Sam. Seriously. Drop it.”

“I can’t,” Sam says flatly. “You’re miserable. You were drunk half the night and disappeared for the rest of it. I’ve got a brand new wife who’s ready to go home and she’s wondering where I am right now because I’m out here talking to you instead of being with her.”

Dean’s jaw tightens. “Then why the fuck are you here? Drop the martyr act, Sam. You don’t need to go chasing after your delinquent brother on your wedding night, you need to be with your girl.”

“Yeah. That _is_ where I should be.”

“So g—”

Sam’s mouth is pressed suddenly, irresistibly, against his. Dean jerks back against the headrest, but Sam follows him, scooting in and pressing his hands to the seat on either side of Dean’s head, practically on top of his brother. Dean shoves at him; Sam catches his wrists and holds them out of the way with one hand, cupping his other palm around the back of Dean’s head.

It’s not until Dean gives a panicked little whimper that Sam releases him, but he only gives Dean a couple inches of space. Dean stays pressed back against the seat, trying to drag breath into his tight chest, staring dazedly into his brother’s eyes.

Sam’s expression is both fierce and mournful. He reaches up to touch his brother’s temple, brush light fingers over his cheekbone.

“Idiot,” he says with equal parts anger and affection. “Fuck, Dean.”

“Sam?” Dean swallows. He can still feel Sam’s warm breath on his wet lips and his insides are all quivering.

“Do you love me?” demands Sam. “If you do, I want you to say it.”

“You’re married,” Dean says stupidly, which is a very different protest from,  _we’re brothers_.

“We’ll figure it out.” Sam touches him again, rough pads of his fingers under Dean’s jaw, touching so softly that Dean wants to cry. “I want to hear you say it.”

Dean can’t say no to his brother. “I love you.”

Sam nods. “I know.” He leans forward and takes Dean’s mouth again, gentle and skilled, coaxing Dean along.

Dean clutches the sleeves of Sam’s tuxedo and makes a helpless noise. Sam cups his face with both hands, holding him still, and kisses him attentively, sucking first on his top lip, then the bottom, dragging his teeth lightly over the plump flesh and then soothing it with his tongue and placing repeated light kisses over every inch of his mouth.

“Sam,” Dean mumbles under the ceaseless attention, fumbling at his brother’s suit jacket. Sam pushes his hands gently away.

“Not now,” Sam says against his lips. “We’ll figure it out. But not here, okay?”

“ _Sam_ ,” Dean gasps, because he can’t let go _now_ , not now that he has what he wants and he’s sure that if Sam walks away he’ll never have it again.

“It’s okay.” Sam is stroking his hair now, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you. We’re gonna make this work.”

We can’t, Dean thinks despairingly. Not now. Never again.

“I promise,” Sam whispers. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”


	2. Making Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessica should've been the lawyer.

“You look like you’re making escape plans. Relax.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“He’s not here. He thought we should discuss this between ourselves.”

“Right.”

“Okay. Honestly, the truth is, I didn’t think you’d believe it unless you heard it from me. So.”

“…”

“Give me a chance on this, okay? I know you and Sam are… really close.”

“…”

“I understand that. I respect what’s between you.”

“You have no idea what’s between us.”

“I’ve got some idea, Dean Winchester. I’m not _blind_. And I’ve been living with Sam for almost _five years._ I knew how he felt about _you_ way before we ever started talking about getting married. And it doesn’t take a bachelor’s degree in psychology to see that way you feel about _him._ So don’t think I’m totally in the dark, here.”

“He’s my brother.”

“Yeah. And you guys mean more to each other than anything in the world. I’m not trying to break you up. Don’t think I could if I wanted to. It’s just, I’m here too now, you know?”

“What do you want?”

“Dean. Seriously. I know you’re feeling kind of exposed right now but the hostile posture is making this really hard. We’re both gonna be around for a good long time. We’re both really important people in Sam’s life, and we both love him more than anyone else in the world. There has got to be a way to make this work.”

“So, what, like, joint custody?”

“I was thinking more like, you know. Like multiplying the love instead of dividing it.”

“…?”

“I mean. Don’t feel like you’re under any pressure to have sex with _me_ , obviously. You certainly don’t have to. But, we were thinking kind of… an open sort of thing. You know?”

“…you mean…”

“I mean, we’re all young, hot, consenting adults, with a lot of love between the three of us. I know you and I don’t know each other very well yet, but I feel like we could get along okay. And we’ve got Sam in common. Isn’t that enough to at least give it a _chance_ to work out?”

“…”

“Dean? Are you freaking out right now?”

“…”

“Sam said you might do this. Take some time to think about it if you want, but… we hope you’ll say yes. We both do. We want you in our lives, in our home. We want you to be a part of our family.”

“…”

“Dean?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Like, _yes_ -yes?”

“Long as we don’t have to move to Utah. Yes.”


	3. Down the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's not good at sitting still but he's always got a place to come back to.

“Knock knock!” Dean doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing open the door, already shrugging out of his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook in the entryway. “Anybody home?”

“DEEEEAAAANNN!” A blur of blonde hair and tiny blue jeans streaks into the room and leaps into his arms. He blinks and the blur comes into focus as a grinning child.

“Hi, princess,” Dean says, brushing blonde curls away from the little girl’s blue-green eyes. “Where’s your mommy and daddy?”

She turns in his arms, bracing herself on his chest with tiny hands, and calls, “Mommy! Uncle Dean’s here!”

Jess pads into the room in a low-cut t-shirt and shorts, one eyebrow raised. “I thought you wouldn’t be here until tomorrow.”

“I made good time.” Dean stoops down to kiss Jess’s cheek, a gesture that has never failed to endear him to her. “Where’s Sam?”

“Dean?” Sam ducks through the doorway, taller than ever, and lights up like a switch has been flipped when he sees his brother. “You’re early!”

“Yeah,” Dean says, opening his free arm, and Sam moves in to embrace him, enveloping him tightly in both arms. Dean buries his nose in Sam’s neck and breathes in. Something tight in his chest begins to loosen; his heart, bruised by time and distance, gives one particularly hard, painful beat and then picks up a steadier pace, the ache already lessening.

The little girl on his hip giggles. “Daddy, you’re crushing me.”

Sam draws away and takes his daughter from Dean’s arms, kissing her cheek. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for bed?”

“I don’t want to,” she protests. “Uncle Dean’s here.“

“He’ll still be here tomorrow. Go brush your teeth and put on your pajamas.”

“But Daddy, _ple-e-e-a-a-a-s-e?_ ”

“I’ll take her,” Jess says quickly. Sam hands the child over and Jess settles her on her hip, half-smiling at the brothers with her eyebrow arched again.

“Don’t stay up too late, you guys,” she says meaningfully.

“We won’t.” Sam kisses her, long and deep. She smiles against his mouth. When he pulls away, she looks at Dean.

“Night, Dean,” she says, and Dean, as always, checks her tone for any hint of animosity or resentment, and as always, there isn’t any—only cool, amused Jess, with a faint touch of understanding and affection that warms something insecure in him like sunlight coaxing open new leaves.

“Night, Jess.” He watches her walk away, hips swaying, and huffs fondly when the baby lays her head on Jess’s shoulder.

Hooking his thumbs into his belt loops, he shakes his head. “She gets more beautiful every time I see her.”

“I know,” Sam says, not bothering to ask which girl he means, knowing it doesn’t really matter because somehow the sentiment is the same. He claps Dean on the back. “Let’s sit down.”

Dean settles on the couch, draping his arm over the back of it, kicking his feet up on the coffeetable while Sam gets two beers from the kitchen.

“Get your feet off my coffeetable,” Sam says, nudging Dean’s thigh with his toe, and Dean obediently drops his feet to the carpet.

“Bitch,” he complains, accepting one of the beers.

“Jerk.” Sam collapses onto the couch beside him, their knees just barely touching, and takes a pull from his own beer.

Dean matches him, watching from the corner of his eye. His little brother looks good—golden-skinned and strong-jawed and mellow, with soft eyes and deep dimples in his cheeks from smiling.

Sam catches him looking. His mouth curves. “What?”

“Nothin’,” Dean says, and puts his beer back to his lips.

Sam keeps watching him, still smiling. “It’s good to see you, Dean.”

Dean bumps Sam’s knee with his own, unable to keep from smiling back. “You too, Sammy.”

Sam swirls the beer around in his bottle, looking down at Dean’s leg, pressed against his own. “You staying safe?”

“ ‘Course. I told you I would.” After his knee injury last year, Dean more or less retired from hunting, except on special occasions. He teaches at the police academy now—Bobby pulled some strings to get him the job, but Dean has more than earned his stripes already, and even the crusty old veterans defer to his word. It’s a good job, and he enjoys it, but he misses Sam. His weekend visit to Sam and Jess’s house is the best part of every month.

“Good.” Sam nestles back against the couch, under Dean’s arm, Dean’s fingertips brushing his shoulder. “You got a girl yet?”

“Nah. There’ve been a couple, but… haven’t found the right one.”

“You’ll find her.”

“Mm.”

They sit in companionable silence for a while, one or the other occasionally lifting a beer to his lips. Finally, Sam says he has to go to bed. Dean rises with him.

“Hey,” Dean says. Sam stops, looking at him expectantly.

Dean clears his throat. “Uh.”

Sam bites his lip, trying not to smile. Dean flushes.

“Happy is a good look for you,” he blurts.

“You, too,” Sam replies without missing a beat. “I love seeing you feel comfortable in your own skin.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, simply, no trace of the old impulse to deny or evade.

Sam pulls him in for one last hug. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Okay, Jess.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Night, Dean.”

“Night, Sam. See you in the morning.”


	4. And We Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess wakes up to Dean on his hands and knees above her, grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Jess's comment about Sam having had his turn: one of the chapters from the original work has been removed. It just didn't quite work with the flow of the story. (If it all seems a little choppy anyway, that's probably because each chapter was written as an independent one-shot and only now am I putting them together in a series.)

Jess wakes up to Sam snoring slightly, draped over the other side of the bed, and Dean on his hands and knees above her, grinning.

She lifts an eyebrow. “Good morning, stranger.”

He chuckles and starts dropping kisses on the smooth skin of her neck, erection hot and full against the dip of her hipbone. She hums contentedly, stretching her arms high above her head, body syrupy warm and relaxed with sleep and tickling with pleasure at every brush of Dean’s lips on her throat and collarbones.

Sam gives a heavy sigh and turns his face out of the pillow toward them, squinting one eye rudely at them.

“Are you guys seriously starting without me?” he grumbles.

“You had your turn last night,” Jess points out, rocking a little to reclaim Dean’s attention when he pauses.

Dean grins and lays his head down on Jess’s ample bosom, winking cheekily at his brother. Sam growls and tackles them both to the bed.

Jess loves this. She loves the way they compete to give her pleasure; then, once she’s come a few times, she loves rolling onto her side and touching herself lazily while she watches Sam make love to Dean--watches Sam’s white teeth close carefully on Dean’s skin and tug, Sam’s big tan hands working Dean’s cock, wedding ring flashing; she loves the way Dean’s mouth always opens in an O of surprise, eyelashes fluttering, like he can’t believe how much pleasure he’s feeling.

They’re gorgeous. Meant to be together. She feels honored to see it, to get to be a part of it. She wants them to be together, and she wants to be with them. And they are. And she is.

**Author's Note:**

> Summary inspired by "The Family Circus" by Bil Keane.


End file.
